The Hunter's Twilight
by Mimicupcake
Summary: Dean never did understand the glory of being a hero; No one ever truly loved you.


The truth was that Dean could never live without Sam. He could survive, exist, and continue on through his day to day life, but he could never feel alive. It was as if Sam was his soul mate, his other half, the missing piece that made Dean feel whole. Dean's soul was worth nothing unless Sam was there to complete it. Even in Hell, Dean feared nothing more, than the thought of never seeing his brother again. The year Dean spent living with Lisa and Ben, believing Sam was going through eternal suffering, caused him more pain then what he endured in Hell himself. Even when Sam was soulless, Dean would search deep for that part of Sam that he connected to, and it tore him apart knowing that it wasn't there. The relief and overwhelming happiness that rushed through Dean the day that Death retrieved Sam's soul, forced Dean to tears knowing that his little brother was just where he wanted him again. Safe and in his arms, in his protection.

Of course, Dean could have a girlfriend, even something almost resembling a family, as he discovered with Lisa and Ben by his side. Maybe one day he would even get married to a beautiful girl that he loved, but nothing could replace the part of his heart and soul that he shared with his little brother. Nothing could stop Dean from ever caring for Sam, after all he was flesh and blood. Family.

Yet now, as Dean held his brother's limp body in his arms, wiping the blood from his wounds, and looking into his dull green eyes for the last time as he closed his eye-lids, Dean felt as if he were done. He couldn't take this anymore, no more hunting; no more fighting. He lifted Sam with a hidden, determined strength, and placed him in the back of the impala. The leather creaked below his brother's weight, yet all was quiet other than the sounds of the night. Not even a groan or husky breath emitted from Sam, all life that he had was gone now, and Dean knew this time it wasn't coming back.

'Goddamnit Sammy', Dean said as he kicked up dirt from the ground. He turned and looked into the car, Sam's head hung off his shoulders, looking oddly like he was napping again the cool of the glass window. Dean felt his throat grow tight and dry, his fists clenched and knuckles whitened. Tears began to drip from Dean's eyes as he thought about everything he'd lost. He hadn't just lost Sam, but everything his brother offered him. He lost the look of Sam's bitchface when Dean had said something to piss him off. He lost the smiles that Sam gave and the small rays of happiness that they emitted too. He'd lost the way that Sam looked at him as he bit into a greasy burger, whilst Sam sat with something green that closely resembled rabbit food. He'd even lost the way Sam would wake up, and look caringly at Dean as he offered to drive so that Dean could catch a few hours sleep. He lost his brother and every experience they were to share, because now Sam was dead and Dean could do nothing about it. He had prayed to the angels and nothing had come of it. Castiel had not visited them in over three years, Dean didn't even expect the angel to be alive either, let alone care. No crossroads demon was going to be prepared to make a deal, that was if Dean could ever get one to show up; most just feared the Winchesters so they rarely appeared before them. Dean wished Bobby was still around, Bobby would know something, Bobby would find something. Even if Bobby could just help Dean, comfort him. If only he had his dad.

'Dad', Dean whispered, now on his knees, tearing his nails through the dirt. He was utterly broken, and it dawned on him, he was truly alone in the world. There was no one he could turn to anymore, no one he could count on, not like he could count on Sammy. It was true, he would be remembered, by the lives he saved, maybe even by some elderly person as the boy whose mother died all those years ago back in Lawrence. But he wouldn't be missed. He wondered how being a hero always seemed to be the dreams of little boys around the world, because as he saw it, being the hero was never something to glorify. At the end of the day, people are going to forget about you. They may remember the experience, how they felt, but they will slowly forget who saved them, what they looked like, and what exactly happened. Being a hero doesn't mean you'll be loved.

Dean's tears stained the dirt below him. Dawn was coming and a dull glow began to creep in from the horizon. He pulled himself to his feet and silently stepped into the driver's seat of the impala. He looked in his rear-view mirror at Sam sat behind him, his long brown hair hung in bloody strands over his face, hiding his features from view. From Dean's point of view it was as if Sammy was once again stuck in one of his books, engrossed by some subject Dean would probably find boring. Yet Dean would do anything now to hear his brother read to him, even if he was reading from the dictionary, Dean wouldn't care, he just wanted to hear Sam's voice.

Dean looked ahead of him, as he turned the key in the engine and released the handbrake. Then he just drove. It wasn't clear to him how long he was driving for, but the sun made its journey over the horizon, often hiding behind grey clouds that had been thrown across the sky. He didn't stop until it was almost twilight and the crickets were being to play their melancholy song amongst the tall grass.

Dean didn't know what bought him to drive to this place, whether it was fate or just chance, but it was perfect. The road was beginning to end and Dean hadn't seen a town for miles. It was as if it was wasteland, yet it wasn't barren. It was over grown and lusciously green. Fireflies were hovering in the air, as if floating on the wind currents. Everything was still, other than the soft breeze that rolled through the reeds occasionally. Dean drove slowly, but directly straight, the grass towering over the impala, engulfing it into the forest. After about ten minutes of gently rolling through this green land, Dean stopped and turned off the engine. He had come to a clearing, where three trees, bigger than any he had ever seen, stood together. They seemed entwined with one another, their roots linked as well as their branches high above. Dean could only see a short distance ahead, as this place was so over-grown, the light was almost completely distinguished, but he could tell he was surrounded by nothing but natural walls built of long grass, and trees.

He sat in the impala, staring ahead until almost all the available light was gone. He would occasionally look back at Sam, with hope that he was alright, yet each time he was disappointed with the fact that his brother was there, still limp, and slouched in the seat. It was then that Dean reached to his gun, still attached to his belt, and pulled it out of its band. He cocked the trigger and held the cool metal tip to his temple. As he closed his eyes, he swallowed, and parted his lips,

'Forgive me, but I can't do this anymore'.

The saying 'If a tree falls in the woods, and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?' can be similarly appointed to that of a gunshot. No human was there that day to hear the echo of a fired shot ripple among the trees of that forest. Yet the impala will forever hold the memory of a lonely brother, who was so lost; he had to lose himself amongst the woods before finding his way home. As time went on, the impala was lost herself, grown over by moss and grass, and even the trees grew around her, holding her in their roots. Protected by the forest, two brothers and their closest thing to home, rest silently, untouched.


End file.
